The Sea of Silver
by cssypet
Summary: She's tried so hard to forget, to move on, to forget the stars and the ocean, but she can't. Something always brings her back to him, even if she tries to leave him behind in the murky land of dirt and sadness and the icy water.
1. Chapter 1

**The Sea of Silver**

**A/N: My brand new fiction. Enjoy!**

**Soundtrack: Every Night in My Dreams**

_The rush of icy water crashing over her head, the distinct smell of salt and water, of pain and misery, and somewhere, smoke and fire. Her mind, however, is focused on the stars far above her head that she is quite sure that she can touch if she raises her hand the slightest bit, if she blinks, if she falls asleep, if she forgets, if she leaves Jack behind while she slips into the next room…_

_But she doesn't want to reach the stars without Jack. She's sure of that, so sure, that she contents herself with counting them out loud. _

**Every night in my dreams I see you**….

It's been years. Three. Or four, she isn't quite sure anymore. Time has become nothing to her, something that happens to other people but doesn't apply to her anymore, so she doesn't know how long it's been. Three, long, agonizing years, and a better part of those years have been spent wandering her own imagination. It's a beautiful place there- murky and dark and many places to fit herself into corners. She doesn't have to face death there. Or anything, really. There's a black cat that follows her around in there.

She spends every minute trying to forget, to move on, and to leave behind the sound of loud, rushing water and the icy cold that's settled permantly into her bones- but she can't- and it reminds her of him anyway. No use of trying to fight what you want so desperately. Because reality is **reality**, and truth is the **truth**, and she's locked herself away to hide from it. Hiding is her solution.

She doesn't associate him with cold, or water- he's more of a light, feathery heat- but the cold and water remind her of that night, etched into her brain and skin and lungs, her very being. She can't forget him, so why does she try?

She hasn't looked in mirror for a year. She looks different- skinnier (she stopped eating for a week), eyes larger, more frightened. But her new image reminds her of him. And it hurts. She won't admit it, but it burns like a slow, acidic fire that leaves her with no positive feelings: regret, anguish, pain, longing, fear. Fear that is she loves again she'll lose it. She loves the safe things- his memory, his smell of salt and faint alcohol and paint, his rough and soft skin, the greenish color of his eyes.

_The lurch of the ship under her feet, the warm air, the wind blowing and ruffling her dress as she attempts to spit over the side of the boat…_

Her flat is somewhere in New York City- she can't for the life of her tell you where- but it's loud and busy there, and the shouts and giggles of people passing by below her on the street provides ample distraction. Sometimes, when she looks out her window, she sees a flash of brown-blonde hair, and her heart speeds up a couple of miles per hour (like, sixty) **beat**beat**beat**beat**beat**beat**beat**beat**beat**beat_**beating, **_and then she catches a glimpse of their face and it's not **him. **At times like these she slams the curtains shut over her windows and escapes her reality.

**Sometimes she sees seas of silver and green, just faintly over the horizon, and it's the only time she'll feel safe. **

"Rose? Darling?"

She hears the sound of Molly climbing the long, impossible steps to her flat. She wonders dimly if the old Rose would've sailed down the railing, dress or not. Probably, but the old Rose doesn't exsist.

The door opens with a bang. The noise doesn't even scare Rose. After seeing a monster ship sink, almost nothing can shock or scare her.

"I'm SICK of seeing you mope around like this, Rose! I understand better then anyone why you're doing this to yourself! I know! But you can't spend your life locked away up here with only **his **drawing for company! D'you think he'd want _this?"_ She flung an arm out to indicate the bare, barely furnished apartment. Rose flinches, not at the sound of her raised voice, but the mention of him.

"I'm not moping," she says softly. Molly narrows her eyes.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Last night."

"Rose, it's five in the afternoon. You mean to tell me you didn't eat breakfast, lunch or even an early dinner? Rose, that's it."

"What's it?" she asks nervously. Molly doesn't bluff. Whatever she says she's going to do, she will do. Molly drew out her other hand to show her the two tickets in her pudgy fist.

_Boat tickets._

"I'm sending you back to Europe," she announces to the shocked silence. Rose says nothing, gaze fixed on the two tickets.

Tickets. Boat tickets. Ship tickets. Ship, boat- did it matter- because suddenly Rose can hear the loud rush of water, the smell of smoke, and his icy grip on her hands.

"_Never let go."_

"_I promise."_

"_I love you."_

"_Yes, you can be a brat…"_

"_He does landscapes."_

_You jump, I jump. We're in this together now."_

"NO! NO! NO _NO __**NO, **_HELL TO THE FUCKING NO I'M NOT GOING ON THAT GODDAMNED SHIP, MOLLY, SO HELP ME, I CAN'T-"

And then she's not shouting any more as her eyes go blank and she all but collapses into herself. Molly, who's expected this, sighs. "I know what's best for you. You need to forget."

"I've been trying," whispers Rose into the folds of her dress. Molly smiles sadly at this.

"Better be up at four tomorrow. My husband works on ships you know, and is pretty strong, so I'd suggest you'd be downstairs by five."

Rose smiles at this. It's not a real smile, more like a stretching of lips over teeth in a sad, pathetic parody of a smile, and says, "Are you threatening me?"

Molly leaves breezily. "Assume what you may" is all she says before the door clicks shut behind her.

**A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Sea of Silver**

**A/N: This, I hope, will be a slightly longer chapter. And thanks for reviewing!**

**Soundtrack: Fingers Crossed- Allison Weiss**

_The Mermaid, _Rose has heard, is bigger then the _Titanic_, and apparently more safe. Molly, who's kept a tight grip on Rose's shoulder the whole time, murmurs, "There are twice more lifeboats," into Rose's ear. Rose honestly doesn't care if there are a million- she _**doesn't want to get on the boat. **_But Molly, who knows Rose so well it's almost scary, doesn't let go of Rose's shoulder until they are inside the ship. Rose wants to desperately rip apart her ticket, but Molly holds them. She stays on deck until the boat leaves the harbor.

Rose immediately flees into her cabin, locking the door and trying to ignore the familiar smell of salt and wood. She thinks she can smell paint.

"_Just her hands."_

She wants to laugh, but has the dim idea that somewhere it will hurt. She can see green when she closes her eyes, and the stars, and she really smells paint and cat fur. With a chocked sob, she rolls over and falls into sleep.

"_Where are we?"_

_Rose looks around. She can see the boat again, the ship of dreams, and it's in its former glory. She smiles at Jack, who's there as well. It seems they are the only ones on the boat, except for the black cat nudging at her shins. She picks it up. _

"_Somewhere. You ought to know where." He smiles at her right before the dream ends and she's left clutching a black cat to her chest._

She wakes up crying. There's black cat fur under her pillow, but she doesn't see it when she falls back into this time, a dreamless sleep.

**oOo**

"Rose! Goddammit, don't make me break down this door!"

For a second, Rose believes she can hear Ruth hammering at her door, and with a humorless chuckle, she unlocks the door to let Molly in. She bustles inside. "Get ready for dinner," she says to Rose. "We have second class tickets, so you don't have to get dressed."

Something that feels like happiness flutters over Rose's heart, but it's gone in the next second.

"Finally," she sighs to her mirror.

**oOo**

She hears the tinkle of glass and china plates as she makes her way to where Molly is standing. She grins at Rose. "That dress suites you," she says, and Rose glances down to se the same red dress she wore with _him_ to dinner. She hadn't thought about what she was going to wear, simply rifling through the trunk that Molly packed for her. Rose narrows her eyes at Molly, fully aware she meant for this to happen. Molly smiles innocently at Rose and they make their way inside.

Rose sits down across from Molly and a man she seems familiar with, chatting with him about something Rose doesn't really care about. She's trying too hard to forget about the last time she was in a place like this, and it threatens to creep up on her from behind, choking her and smothering her. She blinks.

She has a glimpse of brown- blonde hair, but when she looks again it's gone. In its place is that strange black cat, winding around and around on her lap and settling into a comfortable position. It purrs quietly, and Rose starts to scratch it behind it's ears.

Remembering, for Rose, is a journey into lands that small like salt and wood, of alcohol and paint, of icy water and screams of disbelief and pain. Remembering, for Rose, is the worst thing she can possibly do because it takes her from reality. Sometimes reality is safe, with no reminders and white plaster walls, but when Rose breaks those walls down as if they don't exsist and allows herself to think that for a few seconds (**one, **five, **forever) **that maybe he is still alive, and somewhere- that's when she hates memories.

She doesn't think his name- her mind shies away from it, aware that it'll hurt, like someone ripping apart her insides. Their fingers gripping her flesh and twisting, pulling and yanking hard. She knows it will also hurt after the initial shock, like a dull ache replacing her organs. Or maybe a knife. But it wouldn't leave her alive. She can't let him go – not his icy fingers, his green eyes- like he told her to. And she wants to be free, a part of her, free to leave the places that remind her of him, to run away and never look back on that particular time. But another part of her remains stubbornly stuck on his memory. _I love you_, it whispers, and she listens to it only at night when it' safe for her to cry into her pillow.

She doesn't like the truth anymore- it's hard and cold. And it knows, like a fat, smug creature, that Rose can't cope with death.

Back in Rose's cabin, the black cat stares at her with large, doleful green eyes. "What's your name?" she suddenly asks it, and it tilts its head.

"Lily?"

The cat seems to shake its head. "Halloween? Ally? Blackie?" Rose keeps guessing.

The cat seems to start at 'Blackie', so Rose repeats it. It shakes its head, grinning a little.

"Gold? Blue? Greenie?"

The cat leaps from her bed to the door, fast as quick silver.

"Quick –silver? Silver?"

It seems to nod at the last one. "Silver, then," she says, and the cat slips through the open door out into the hallway.

**oOo**

Rose isn't one for pets, but she has the weirdest feeling that Silver is different. She likes it, and she doesn't cling to it or it to her, but she enjoys brushing Silver's fur. She knows that Silver belongs to someone else on the _Mermaid_, and that's where Silver goes when she leaves Rose's cabin. It's not that Silver reminds Rose of him- it's just the opposite. That Silver provides **distraction **and that she can think about other things for once in the past three years. She isn't a girl hung up on Jack. She's a girl hung up on Jack's memory. She highly doubts if she'll have kids, like Jack wanted her to. It would hurt too much. And in more ways then one.

Molly herself takes a liking to Silver, leaving food outside her door for the cat. "I had a cat once myself," she'd say to Rose's heated stares.

The true reason Molly likes Silver is because the cat makes Rose seem happier.

**Silver**

Silver pads down the hallway, down one or two staircases, and waits patiently outside a door. When no one comes, she starts to meow until a tall, almost rough looking, brown- blonde man opens the door to allow her inside. She heads almost immediately to her blanket in the corner.

"I'd wonder where you go all the time," the man says to Silver. "Would you mind telling me?"

Silver stares at him expectantly. "Sometimes I'd swear you know something I don't," he says under his breath, but Silver ignores this and continues to watch him. "Fine," grins the man, but the smile is forced. "Do you only come back for food, Silvie?" he asks as he hands her a cat treat from inside his pocket. She meows and settles into her blanket.

"Hmmm," says the man. "You fur looks brushed. Found a friend on the ship?"

She only meows at him. Almost as if to say, "_You'd be interested." _

But she's tired, so she doesn't even bother to show him her new friend. Silvie falls asleep in seconds.

**oOo**

Rose has gone to Central Park once or twice (or a _million _times), drawn by the feel and sense of nature and freedom. But Central Park cannot compete with the open sky and rush of water racing past the ship. The air is saturated with the smell of salt and smoke and the cold water stings her cheeks as she leans over the railing to watch the water. The Atlantic is beautiful, she thinks, and for once, when she looks at the ocean she isn't plagued by memories.

"_Close your eyes."_

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"_Promise me."_

**I've got my fingers crossed, and my hopes are high, so I'll try to stay calm. Don't know why I let you into my heart. **

She speaks too soon, but her vision doesn't turn into a variety of blue and black and green and ice and water. But she can only feel a blush creep up onto her cheeks. She had been entirely too out spoken: brave, rash.

Maybe that was why he had loved her.

She shuts her eyes when she feels the familiar texture of fur around her ankles. Silver stares up at her with eyes as green as his.

If only she knew how close he was at that moment.

**A/N: Please review! Review, over and over again! Hint- chapter three might come faster if I get at least five more reviews! Just click that link below. Click it and then review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Sea of Silver**

** A/N: Thank you for those who reviwed! This is my first Titanic fanfic and it makes me feel really good: five reviews in under two weeks. You guys really inspire me. I'm not quite sure how to spell Carpithia, so please forgive me if I made a mistake. Or Fabio- I am throughly confused if it's Fabio or Fabzio, or Fabsio, so I'm going with Fabio. Once again, if I made a mistake, please forgive me. It's pretty late at night. :)**

** Soundtrack: Between The Bars- Metric**

** Jack**

The ship of dreams was just that, for Jack. A ship filled with impossible hopes and more of a future on the other side of the Atalantic. And Jack had accepted it in stride, smiling, grinning with Fabio, opening his arms out to the sea. And then, of course- he met her. The starry eyed, red haired girl wih hopes and dreams that girls of her class didn't usally have- hers courted freedom and love and life in itself. She was a free, vibrant, selfish, spoiled, brave, rash, and completely **unusual** girl. She had even tried to spit once. She had awakened something in him that had lied dormant in him. And he loved her for it. And then came that night, that smelled of smoke and salt and water. The ship had sunk. And he fell asleep next to her, fully aware that he might not awaken again. But, in that little moment, he had decided, that that was how he wanted to die. Next to her, clutching her hands, and that was all. He had fallen asleep under the influence of cold and the lure of the stars above him.

Even now, Jack is still scared. He is pretty sure he had died, or something close to it, because for a few moment he had been hovering above the stars, **one** of the stars, watching his cold body and Rose breathe rapidly while singing. Then he came to awareness and dove back for control, but his eyes were colsed, cemented shut by the ice clinging to his lashes. He had heard her speak, but almost as if he were under water and she was speaking to him from above it, and for the life of him he couldn't open his mouth to speak. He heard the soft sound of her crying, and then the pressure of his hands lessened and then he was floating. In and above the waves, and the water lessened the ice on his eyelashes. Moments after that boat picked up Rose and she fell asleep, he was in the boat next to her (swimming, like a marathon race runner. Or so it felt. He was still a little meddled). He held her while she was sleeping. And then they were seperated on the _Carpthia, _ and he hadn't seen her again. He knew very well she thought he was dead, and he had no bigger wish then to prove her wrong, to hold her and kiss her okay, but he couldn't. He didn't even know were she was, how she was doing. If she was married. But she would have moved on- Jack wasn't that important. But the same could not be the same for him- Rose was everything for him. And she would always be. So losing her, for him, was equivilant to losing a heart or a lung or some other important organ: it hurt, and it hurt like hell. And it **still ** hurt, when he moved or something that was the same vibrant red of her hair or green of her eyes. Or the tinkle of bells her laughter. Anything, really, even the sun. Or smoke and salty icy water. Or even the stars.

And now he's on another boat, heading back to Europe to find more people to draw and maybe help on ships- Jack's strong enough to help with that. And he has a cat, affectionatly named Silvie for his grandmother. He had honestly considered calling her Rose, but then he decided he hadn't said her name out loud in over three years. It would hurt, he knew. Like someone had ripped out his heart. So he had settled for Silvie, and she had settled into his heart. Between he still loves her- her memory and the taste of her lips, like salt and danger. She was too good for him, he keeps telling himself, that she doesn't deserve someone like him. And that God had driven them away from each other- but his heart still hurt. Jack knew what pain was. He's always known, ever since he'd seen that ring on on her finger symbolizing she'd belonged to someone else, other then him- Mr. Cal Hockley-

**Rose**

"Cal is on the ship. Repeat that again Molly- I'm pretty sure I've just turned hard of hearing."

Molly's throughly nervous now, Rose's cabin suddenly hot. She meets Rose's glare in the mirror. "He was, um, in the first class dining room when I passed it. I saw him. He was talking with someone who might've been his wife. I swear I didn't know, but Ruth isn't on the ship. I checked." She talks quickly, eager to get the words out in the fact that Rose's agner would subside. It does, but not because of Molly. Her mind has raced ahead. Cal had finally found a wife, and she still isn't married- any potential suitors are driven away by her wild, unhindered spirit, and Rose knows that no first class man would even so much as **look** at her anymore. A new beggining. They could start again. It's something that Rose wants. Not a relationship with Cal- an apology. And a new beginning as friends.

She finds him drinking wine and staring out over the sea, up out on the deck. She taps his shoulder, harder then nessecary, because her hands are shaking. His face relaxes into a smile when he sees her. "Rose!" He envelopes her in a hug, and she notices that he smells like wine.

"Cal Hockley. Who would've thought I'd ever see you again?"

"I'm traveling to Paris- a potential buisness oppertuinity. After the Titanic..." he trails off, looking dejected, then starst again, "Say...did the tr- I mean, um, Jason, or what's-his-name survive? Are you married to him?"

Rose swallows the lump down in her throat. If he were here, he would've laughed or slugged Cal in the face. She shakes her head slowly. The lump returns with each wag of her head. There it sticks. "No..um...he died."

He's appearing to ignore her. _"Jack!" _he exclaims, delighted at finding the answer. Rose's vision swirls sickeningly about her head, and then she stares very determinedly at a star above Cal's left ear. It hurts worse then she thought it would- like it was Jack himself who thrust his hand into her chest and curled his fingers about her heart, and then with his beautiful smile, proceeded to rip it out. She holds a hand to her chest, and only then does her hearing return.

"Rose? Rose? Sweetpea? You look faint. Do you wish to lie down?"

It's his affectionate name for her- sweetpea- the name that she's always hated with passion. "My name is Rose," she manages to get out. "Not Sweetpea." Right before her vision goes black, she smells paint and sees two large orbs of green eyes. "Of course," she thinks she hears someone whisper in her ear.

**o.O.o**

** Jack**

Jack had found Silvie in the grungy streets of New York, prowlin about his legs and batting at his pencils. Jack could paint as well as sketch, and he did it almost as often as he drew. It cost fifty cents more to be painted, but Rose had only wanted to be sketched. Silvie was a New York City cat through and through, even stealing the little bits of Jack's food when he left it unattended for those short periods of time. Once, when he went after his food again, she'd then went so far as to bite him in the ankle. Then he'd decided he needed to go to Paris- New York City, for some reason, the girls here reminded him of his Rose too much. She was somewhere, he had known, but not his anymore. And then after sketching a certain one legged prostitute again, she'd given him a ticket. "A customer gave it to me. But I like this city too much." And after pecking him on the cheek and hopping out of the room, she'd slammed the door behind her. That was a lie, Jack knew. She wished as much as he did to leave the memories the city had caught for him. But he'd accepted it.

And now, smoking a ciggerate outside the deck, there's a familiar voice that Jack would've recongnized anywhere- Cal Hockely. "Rose? Rose? Sweetpea?" He travels to the side of _The Mermaid_ to see a pale, skinny girl with red hair (nowhere near as bright as Rose's, Jack thinks with a pang) sagging in Cal's looks up at Jack, then down at Rose, then at Jack again, and seems to put two and two together. But two and two of what, Jack couldn't possibly know. He doesn't know her, and he pretty much hates Cal's guts, and so therefore is suprised when Cal doesn't pull a gun out on him. "She's fainted" is all he says though, so Jack puts aside his loathing for a later time and helps to bring her to the infirmary.

A lady, stout, with curly brown hair and a hat set at a jaunty angle, rushes ino the infirmary with a gasp and and shriek of surprise. She doesn't notice Jack, or Cal for that matter, and instantly rushes to Rose's bedside. Then she notices her vistitors. She glares at Cal first. "_You_," she gasps, face going pale. Jack feels a rush of confusion- the lady knew Cal. With her purse, she threatened and all but threw Cal out. Then she turned to Jack, chest heaving.

There's a tight, tense moment while the lady stares at him with wonder and Jack simply stands there, feeling uncomfortable. "You," she says faintly, but she doesn't raise her purse or try to beat him, so he continues to stand there. "Jack- Jack! It's me- Molly!"

And he remembers her now- the lady who'd lent him her son's suit, the only one who'd aided him. A person who knew Rose, once upon a time. A far away time, when the ship wasn't sinking and Jack wasn't miserable. Hoarsely, because his throat and tonuge didn't want to work, "Do you know where Rose is?"

She gestures to the occupied bed.

It _is_ Rose, so he sees- the hair has darkened somewhat, but she also lost weight severly. She has the slightly shruken appearence of someone losing wieght who wan't meant to, bags under her closed eyelids and cheeks an extreme pale. He wants to hold her (**I'll kiss you again between the bars where I'm seeing you)** kiss her okay, kiss away her tears, but he can't. Her hand strays towards his, even in sleep. He pulls his hand back.

"Don't tell her I was here," he says to Rose's almost politely slumbering face, and with a glance that a tortured man might've given to Molly, he's gone.

**Rose**

She awakens when the door slams, to Molly's pale face. "Molly?" she says groggily, and she smiles at her. Molly returns the smile, but she looks like she's seen a ghost. "Whazdamdder?" she says, because sleep is clutching at her again. "You've just scared me, that's all," she says to Rose, but Rose feels as if Molly is maybe hiding something from her.

**A/N: I lknow. Jack is a pain in the a**. I know this. But I thought it'd be romantic. Review! **


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